:: The S.I.C.L.E. Cell ::

my view from the prison of a SICLE (Self-Imposed Child Loss Experience) due to debilitating maternal disease
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:: Friday, May 28, 2004 ::

My SIL came for a visit from out of town the other day. This is the SIL who aborted two of her children in college and told me through tears and tears that she has found "peace" with her decision to abort them. She also claims, through the same tears, that she doesn't regret aborting them. She says she is "pro-choice" but after seeing "pickled punks" (actual preserved fetuses of various ages) at a prestigious science museum, she talks like a "pro-lifer". She comes across as somewhat unsettled, somewhat confused on the subject.


She was playing with her nephew, my son, on the trampoline before lunch. During a lovely organic fruit salad she talked of a game she taught him called "Crack the Egg".

"Never heard of it," I said.

She told me that one person curls into a fetal position, with their arms around their bent legs, and lays in the middle of the trampoline, while the other participants jump around the prone person as they try to "break up" the prone person's fetal position. If the "egg's" arms come away from his/her legs, the "egg is broken" and the game is over.

At the telling, my eyes grew as wide as... well... eggs.

"Uhhhhhhhhh..." I said, "I don't think that's a game we'll be playing often here at 'pro-life Mary's' house."

"D'oh!" was kind of her reaction.
"I didn't mean to say 'fetal' position," she apologized.

Apparently, God love her, she still doesn't have a clue. It's not the terminology that disturbs me, but the whole concept of children being taught to play a game that calls a pretend fetus an "egg" and puts them in the position of trying to break it. Leave it to the one big thumper (abortion advocate) in the family to come over here once out of a year and start teaching my children how to "break the egg". Did Planned Parenthood come up with this game somewhere in the hideous, stinking bowels of its massive abortion machine?

The more I contemplate it, the more horrified I become. No, my kids will NEVER spend alone time with "Aint" So and So in Atlanta. I do not want to set her up as being the "Aint" they go to with secrets that have the potential for eventually effectuating certain clandestine... "procedures".

It starts now, the guarding of the children. Death is paused on decayed haunches waiting, waiting for the right moment to spring its lies on the little ones it did not win.

My bmother aborted one of my siblings. My bfather was involved in the abortion of another. I aborted one of my childrens' siblings.

Let the legacy end with me.

No more pink and blue confections for the hungry mouth of death.
No more.

:: ashli 10:32 AM # ::

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